All The Ways You Devastate Me
by confessions.of.katijane
Summary: Self-described singleton Katie Bell is attempting to recapture the attention of Oliver Wood, along with help from best mate Fred Weasley. But complications ensue, & Katie isn't sure which of the two is the reason she's feeling so hopelessly frustrated.
1. Basketcase Bell

**A/N: Some of you might recognize this story from a while back. I liked the idea & wanted to continue it, but parts of it were so bad they were basically beyond repair. So I just deleted the whole thing, rewrote most of the chapters & decided to repost it as a new story. So, if you were ever once mildly interested in it, I'd love for you to take it up again. And if you're new—welcome! Please R&R as always. Cheers!**

"It's worse now," I stated dramatically, dropping my school books onto my bed and standing with my hands on my hips. "It's actually managed to get worse. Honestly, I think he'd rather be snogging Snape's left bum cheek than talking to me."

"Katie, darling, do you think you could manage to not be _quite _so tragic?" Angelina urged tiredly, spreading out her own workload onto her desk. "It's getting slightly tiresome."

"I can't help it," I said earnestly. "My life _is _tragic. I just don't know what to do anymore."

"You could try doing your homework," suggested Alicia. "It might help you take your mind off some things."

"But I can't even do _that_ anymore," I complained and began to pace the floor. "You two don't understand. I tried studying how to transfigure an 'otter' into 'wood' and all of a sudden I was thinking of him again! I just don't understand how it's fair that I have to spend every waking minute analyzing him in microscopic detail and _he _gets to be the one with other things on his mind!"

"Like Chelsey Foster?" asked Angelina.

"Yes, like Chelsey _bloody _Foster," I exploded, forcing myself to sit down and squeeze the bridge of my nose in an effort to calm myself. "What's so enthralling about her anyway? She doesn't even play Quidditch!"

Alicia shrugged. "No, but she _is _a stick with perfect hair. That's a start."

"A start?" scoffed Angelina. "That's all that needs to be _said_. Our captain has always been attracted to a rather shallow brand of women—you excepted of course, Kates."

I groaned again and hit the bed with a nasty thud. My head had hit my books.

"Oh damn," I moaned, rubbing the area of impact.

"Hey, here's an idea," Angelina put out casually, beginning to flip through her various notebooks and texts. "Why don't you start dating other people? If not to take your mind off of it, than to make _him _jealous."

"Ange, blokes don't operate the same way we do," I sighed. "Especially him. I doubt he'd notice if I came into the common room with Marcus Flint's arm 'round my waist. He doesn't care who I spend time with anymore…he cared when _we _were dating, but not before that and especially not _now_."

"Erm…at least he never broke up with you?" said Alicia tentatively.

"Erm, they were never properly dating in the first place," Angelina cut in, turning toward Alicia. "Katie just likes to say they were because it makes her feel better."

"There were—_feelings!_" I spouted out angrily. "Anyway, I'm working on Charms now, so give it a rest."

My roommates exchanged looks briefly and then turned their attention back toward their books. I fiddled with my quill for a while, attempted to read, but ultimately gave up as the few notes I had written down turned into curlie-cues and then lyrics to a rather sad love song.

You see, I can't help it.

I have found almost everything ever written, said, sung, screamed, or whispered underneath the protection of a pillow about love to be as real as the person who wrote, said sung, screamed, or whispered it. There are the classics, of course: "You lethargic, waiting upon my, waiting for the fire and I attendant upon you, shaken by your beauty. Shaken." That was written by the poet William Carlos Williams—I found it in an old dusty book in the library last week and penciled it onto the piece of parchment I was supposed to be using to write my Potions essay. Snape had not been impressed. But the point was that it was _eloquent_, quietly truthful, and virtually timeless.

Then there are the ones that remind you of a teenage girl's love letters: "It was you then, and it's you now. That's all." Actually, that _did _come from a teenage girl's love letters—Alicia Anne Spinnet's, actually. Although I can't say in all confidence that she knows I read it.

Continuing on, there are even the more colorful representations of love: "You daft cow! I just don't work without you." That one comes from a Muggle film we watched in the popular culture unit in Muggle Studies.

Of course, when it comes to me, the only words about love that I can sympathize with sound something more along the lines of "I want you to want me," "Love takes hostages," or "Maybe our hearts were just next in line—maybe everything breaks sometime." Those came from, respectively, Cheap Trick, Neil Gaiman, and Jewel. I suppose that makes me more love-obsessed than any normal, well adjusted school-aged witch should be. Especially one that has so much on her plate already.

But it really can't be helped. I am constantly enthralled with love's ability to completely alter and redefine our lives, priorities, and even personalities for the better. That secret feeling of security and new happiness that can make this dreary world a tolerable—and even enjoyable—place never ceases to capture my attention and leave me powerless to think on anything else. Which, I suppose, is why I have become obsessed with love—tracking down quotes and crumpled up pieces of parchment that people leave in the hall to ponder over and vicariously experience what has been stolen from me and what I doubt I will ever experience again. Pathetic? I'm the first to admit that I am. Before I was taken hostage by love, I was a normal, functioning, and contributing member of society. I got decent marks. I performed well at Quidditch practice. I had friends. I only slept in about once a week. Now I'm a miserable wreck, a hot mess, with no chance of recovery.

Yes, I have fallen in love alone. It's really quite a pity. It becomes even more pitiable if I bothered to mention the minor detail that the object of my wasted desire is Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and Sex God Oliver Wood. That man—that indescribably charming man—has caused me to waste the better part of four months of my young life. The worst possible months, too! Oliver Wood has successively ruined Halloween, crushed Christmas, pulverized New Year's Eve, and if this pitiable state continues into the next few weeks (which I have no doubt it shall) he will utterly destroy Valentine's Day. I know, it's a shit holiday, but I'd prefer to spend it on the arm of the love of my life and not crying my eyes out wearing flannel.

Maybe Ange and Al are right—we didn't necessarily _date_. Officially, anyway. Oh, but we were so _close_. If only things could have gone right. If only things _ever _went right. If only he hadn't gotten right down to my core.

Oliver came into my life last summer. Well, I suppose he was there before. He _had _been my captain for my entire Quidditch career, after all. But when I say he came into my life, I mean _he _came into my life. My family had decided it would be a good idea to rent out a beach house on the southern coast and lo and behold, Oliver Wood was with his own family right next door. What seemed like a summer doomed to the confinement of my own dysfunctional family had suddenly turned into an all Quiddtich, all the time free for all with a quite good looking school mate _at the beach_. Nothing could be better.

After a few weeks of innocent play in less clothing than normal, I noticed that Oliver had an interesting habit of staring at me slightly longer than is strictly normal. After this discovery, subsequent revelations were made: Oliver smiled at me a particular way when I had sand on my face and he reached out to brush it off. Oliver dished up my paper plate with my favorite foods when our families picnicked together. Oliver looked at me from across the divide between our beach houses on rainy days when I sat in the windowsill with a book. And _oh, _was he built. Oliver Wood had the chest and stomach of a god. But more importantly than all this, he and I started talking—about more than just Quidditch, I mean. We took walks along the shoreline that lasted for hours and I realized that the bloke I had assumed was just another one-dimensional hard ass was actually capable of being hysterically funny, charming, and even sweetly vulnerable. I swear he actually blushed the day I wore my smallest bikini. And when his posh friends came down one weekend for a beach party, he mostly ignored them in order to hang out with me and eat cheeseburgers and laugh at the girls who wore beach hats. He started doing simple things like placing an arm around me in casual conversation or touching the small of my back. His hand brushed mine countless times and the last night we were out, we were seconds away from kissing after spending all day at a beach walk festival. My dad turned on the porch lights and scared him off.

So now, when I pass him in the halls, I feel like I know him to an extent that maybe not even his closest friends do. And I feel that he knows me that well too. And when you know someone that intimately, when your would-be summer romance suddenly disappears in a fit of awkwardness trying to translate it into school time reality, it hurts. Oliver tried to take me on a couple of proper dates to Hogsmeade at the beginning of the year, but the surprise met with by both his friends and mine made us strangely shy around each other and we didn't really talk. Things fizzled. I was heartbroken and, according to Fred and George, he was just as frustrated but without having the desire to patch things up. The prick. And halting conversations are all we've had since.

And now? Well—My name is Katie Bell and I am a fully-certified basket case.


	2. The Truth is Harsh

Oh no, it was starting again.

Heart pounding, head racing, breath caught in throat; right there, down the crowded corridor of Hogwarts' west wing, Oliver Wood was walking carelessly toward me. A couple of his mates and the usual gorgeous girls that surrounded them flanked his sides, but there was no denying the fact that he was headed directly in my direction. I needed to do something quick.

I turned around, briefly scoping the area to see if there was anyone I knew present with whom I could enter into some animated conversation. Damn, no. Angelina and Alicia had headed to class early after spending the morning in the library, something I couldn't be bothered to do, and consequently I was on my own. Oliver was now closer. Okay, I had to focus. I considered taking out one of my textbooks to cover my face with, but discarded the notion almost instantly as I figured even _I _had a limit of how obvious I could be. Still, I _had_ to avoid eye contact somehow. He was only a few meters in front of me and I was beginning to panic.

Two seconds later, right on the verge of impact, I had a brain wave and bent down to tie my shoelace. Disappearing from sight, I felt him pass by me. I stood up again and cautiously looked over my shoulder to make sure the coast was clear. Yes, he was gone. That was a relief. And yet…he hadn't even bothered to try to say hello to me. Little prat!

Frustrated with myself and with him, I slapped my hand against my forehead.

"_Idiot_!" I muttered.

"Katie Bell, you're pathetic," laughed a familiar voice behind me.

I turned around angrily to find Fred Weasley detaching himself from a blonde girl to come over and talk to me. He grinned down at me from his great height and placed his arm around my shoulder, hugging me toward him.

"Come along, dear," he said pleasantly. "Let's try to make it to class without any more embarrassing scenes."

I frowned and straightened myself against the lanky redhead. "I don't know what you're talking about," declared haughtily. "Where were you a couple of seconds ago?"

"Watching you, Katie Kate," he said easily. "And don't try to pull that. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"No, I don't," I lied, moving away from him. "Who was she, by the way?"

He looked back at the blonde girl we were now leaving behind. "I think her name's Alexandra," he said ponderously. "She's in third year."

"You _think _that's her name?" I scoffed. "And since when have you been dating—sorry, _toying with_—younger girls?"

"Since I went through everyone in our year," said Fred easily. "Oh, and the fourth and sixth years as well. Can't forget them."

I rolled my eyes. Normally I really liked Fred, but his dating practices made me slightly ill. Most of the girls in the castle were either mad in love with him, or constantly throwing him dark looks because he had jilted them in some manner. George used to be the same way, but dating Alicia had calmed him down slightly.

Fred shrugged in answer to my question. "I can't help it," he said. "I like flirting. It's fun."

"So what exactly are you accusing me of?" I asked, half curious if his response turned out to be correct, and half dreading it would be.

"Merely that you are, as of this moment, not yet over our dear captain," he answered pleasantly. "Am I right?"

"_No_," I said angrily. "In fact, that's the _furthest_ thing from my mind right now."

"Well obviously right now," Fred quipped. "You're with me. But think back to fifteen seconds ago—you can't tell me I'm wrong about what was going on in your little mind then."

"Watch me."

"Judging from the overzealousness of your denial, I'm going to assume that my accusation was, in fact, correct. Am I correct now?"

_Bloody Fred._

"The only way you'll ever be correct," I said, frustrated, "is if you announce to the world that you're a shameless flirt with no sense of emotional integrity and that you're incapable of falling in love."

"I've been in love," Fred said, defiantly. "What you meant to say is that I'm incapable of staying in a stable relationship. Of which, for not having been in many, you seem to have a lot of rules about."

I glared at him. "Piss off, will you?"

"I would," he agreed. "If it didn't deny me the pleasure of your lovely company. Ah, here's the door."

"Whatever," I replied, accepting his opening of the door for me and sinking down into my chair. Angelina, Alicia, and George were on the other side of the classroom after Professor Flitwick had split up the twins earlier in the year. Lee still hadn't made it in. I waved to them forlornly as I pulled out the notes I was supposed to have taken the night before.

_Oh bollocks. I've just done doodles_.

I managed to slip the offending paper out of sight before Fred arrived, sighing and sliding into the seat next to me.

"Katie Kate," he said practically. "You're a great girl; really, you are. And deep down inside that self-proclaimed shattered little heart of yours, you're still that same weird, quirky girl we all know and love. But right now, you're behaving _ridiculously_. You do realize that, don't you? You aren't yourself at all."

I put my head down on my desk and covered it with my arms. "And how is this helping, Fred?" I asked.

"Because you've got to hear the truth, Katie Kate."

"How am I supposed to snap right back into being happy-go-lucky Katie when I'm in agony?" I moaned.

I could feel him grin. "So you admit it, then? I _was _right. Aha!"

I turned my head to throw him a dirty look.

"Er—right," he continued. "Main point is, Katie, I don't know myself what's going on between you and Ollie-wog, so I don't know how much use _I'm _going to be, but I can tell you this much—don't write him off just yet. You seemed to get along right well. He doesn't talk about much other than his sport obsession in the locker room, but from what he has said, that's what I gathered."

I scoffed. "And how long ago was that? Four bloody months?"

"Something like that," continued Fred, undeterred. "But before that disastrous date we've all heard so much about. That's when things seem to have gone a little awry."

"You think?" I asked sarcastically. "That was the worst night of my life."

"I would imagine so," he replied. "George and I were spying on the pair of you in the Three Broomsticks. And I'll tell you, we expected more out of our old captain. He was excited—oh yeah, he was excited—but when things got down to the wire, I guess he just sort of…jumped ship. I'm sorry."

The strange thing was, Fred actually _did_ look sorry. This was new. Usually the redhead was good for a laugh, but not much in the way of the emotional department.

"Yeah, well…"I trailed off. "I don't think whether or not I've 'written him off' is going to make much difference now. As you've noticed, I'm completely incapable of being in his presence without behaving like a fool."

"Oh, Katie Kate, please don't say that," Fred urged, once again looking completely in earnest. All of this was throwing me off. I wondered if he was planning a prank. "You behaved wonderfully that night," he continued. "I was right proud of my little girl. I thought you handled it perfectly."

"This coming from the peanut gallery," I said dismissively. "Anyway, I don't know why I ought to trust you."

"You'd be surprised how close Wood and I are," he said. "I've slept naked in his bed before."

"You're so strange."

"As a matter of curiosity, have you discussed it with him?"

"Are you insane?" I asked. "Why would I want to revisit that? All he told me afterward was that he was sorry if things were uncomfortable, and that he wasn't sure if he ought to be on a date with a member of his team after all. It was total bollocks."

"Well, Kates, I think you ought to have breached the subject with him. But I suppose things have changed a bit since. Or at least that's what it seems like."

"Of course they've changed! Anyway, I don't even care about the stupid date anymore. What I want to know is why he hates me now."

"Oh, who says he hates you?"

"I do. I can tell."

"See!" he said, rolling his eyes and then looking at me intently. "That's your problem—you're lumping all of us blokes together into one foul pile of rot and using Ollie-pop as your main target. That's not fair to him, Katie Kate. You need to stop assuming stuff. You just _assume_ Wood doesn't want to speak with you ever again."

"Well, what am I supposed to assume if that's how he acts?"

"You're not supposed to assume anything. He's just one bloke—we're all different. That's why I'm telling you to _ask_."

"Absolutely not.

"Well, fine then, stew in your misery," conceded Fred, leaning back in his chair and grinning at me. "But you truly are horrible at trying to avoid him."

I smiled weakly. "Thanks, Freddie."

Professor Flitwick made a noise in his throat and began class. I used Lee's late entrance to disguise the fact that I didn't have a paper to turn in as the pile was passed around the classroom and quickly shoved the notes forward to the lad in front of me. As Lee managed to take his seat on the other side of me, I wilted back onto the desk and attempted to take notes while deflecting my mind away from the recent encounter with Wood. Why was it so impossible to concentrate?

In my torpor, it was a couple of minutes before I noticed a note sitting on top of my desk. I frowned slightly as if I was perturbed that the note was disrupting my ruthless pursuit of knowledge, and then opened it up.

Scrawled in Fred's untidy handwriting was the following:

**Want to go on a date with me this Friday?**


	3. Fortress of Solitude

I stared at the piece of paper and turned it over in my hands, conscious of the blank look on my face. As soon as the bell rang, I shoved the note into my bag, scooped up my books and headed for the door. I realized that disappearing immediately after being asked on a date probably wasn't the most in line with social protocol, but I really couldn't face Fred at the moment. Thankfully, that was the only class I had with him that day—when it came to choosing our own courses, the only one all six of us had agreed on was Divination (strictly for a laugh), and that was on off days.

I chose the library as my fortress of solitude. It was big enough to get lost in, and even after my five years at Hogwarts, Madame Pince had yet to learn my name, so it was perfect for keeping a low profile. Besides, I was fairly confident I would never spot Fred Weasley in the library willingly. I ran up a couple of flights of stairs, slung my bag over an armchair and sat down to think. I had a textbook out with mild ambitions of looking like I was studying, but I was far too distracted to even open the cover.

What could Fred mean by this?

Despite the lecture he had given me about not jumping to conclusions, my brain had been trained that way for too long and was already coming up with several possibilities: One, he was subtly aiming to help me by making Wood jealous. Two, he was bored and felt like flirting. Or, three, he genuinely felt sorry for me after the disaster with Wood and wanted to help cheer me up by giving me a self esteem boost. Considering all that I knew of Fred, I decided that it was probably the second reason; although, if that was the entire reason, he probably could have just asked Andrea or whatever the blonde girl's name had been. That way he could have had a safe bet of snogging before the night was through. He had to know that he had no shot of getting that from me, if it even did enter his head as something potentially desirable. Which I knew it couldn't.

I shook my head and opened the textbook, attempting to actually study. Within thirty seconds the words on the page began to blur together. _Here's a thought…even if Fred wasn't trying to make Wood jealous for me, it may work anyway…_Should I accept? He did seem to thrive on competition. He might banish Fred from the team in a fit of jealousy and claim me back for himself…or he could end up banishing me, which to be perfectly honest, seemed far more likely. Oh, bother, bother, bother. Knowing my luck, he wouldn't notice at all and I would end up being felt up by Fred without having anything to show for it. Best say no then. Or, I can just tell Fred that I'll spend time with him, but not in any kind of a date setting. Yes, good plan. I yawned. I was suddenly very tired.

Before I knew what had happened, a rather pudgy looking fourth year with a bad that read "Library Aid" was standing above me and tapping my head impatiently.

"You'd better wake up," he said, frowning beneath his heavy lenses. "The library closes in five minutes and you're drooling on our chair."

I squinted uncomfortably, trying to wake up and place this unpleasant looking person into some sort of context. "Who the hell are you?" I grumbled.

The pudgy boy frowned and crossed his arms. "I'm Francis," he said impatiently. "I'm a library aid."

"Oh," I replied, rubbing my eyes. "Right."

"Could you stand up now?" he urged. "And please try not to curse—it shows your ignorance."

I glared at him for a moment and then rolled my eyes. "Whatever," I said dismissively. "What time is it anyway, Frannie?"

"It's Francis," corrected Francis. "And it's five to six. Almost time for dinner, that's why we're closing. You need to leave so I can do the tidying up."

"Five to six?" I repeated incredulously. "Shit!"

I had somehow managed to sleep through all of my afternoon classes. What had happened? Bloody Fred! Even when I'm hiding from him, he still manages to mess me up.

"Don't _curse_," Francis reminded me, annoyed. "I can give you a citation, you know."

I surveyed him. "How old are you, twelve?" I asked scathingly. "You give me a citation and I'll give you a bloody nose."

I picked up my book bag and slung it over my shoulder. "I'll see you later, Fran."

"Don't threaten me!" he called after me. "And it's _Francis_."

I retreated down the stairs and out of the library, looking at the giant clock on the opposite end of the hallway to make sure that the annoying library aid had gotten his facts straight. He had—I had literally slept through all of my afternoon classes.

"Damn!" I hissed under my breath.

"I heard that," drawled a voice behind me. I turned around to greet whoever it was with a dirty look and found myself face-to-face with Angelina.

I sighed. "Oh, hey Ange."

"You okay?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Fine. Just…you know…missed all of my classes this afternoon except for Charms."

"You did _what? _Why?"

I sighed. "I know, I know," I gave in. "But it wasn't my bloody fault. Read this."

I thrust Fred's note at her. She read it with a crinkle in her forehead.

"Who's this from?" she asked. "Not Oliver?"

"No," I said exasperated. "One of his dashing redheaded beaters."

"_Fred_?"

"Yes, Fred."

"Fucking hell, Katie," she said in a way that I appreciated. And then, rather less pleasantly, "But that's adorable! I _thought _he had a little something for you."

I stared at her impatiently and shook my head. "Don't be ridiculous," I snapped, wrenching the note away from her. "It's _Fred_. There's no way in hell he has something for me—unless it's the same something he has for everything female. Including you."

Angelina rolled her eyes. "Could you drop that?" she asked. "That was one mad weekend last year. And to be perfectly honest, I think it was more hormone-fueled than anything else. But with _you_…well, Alicia and I always wondered! He treats you differently, especially this year when you and Wood started to…well, whatever it was you were doing."

I sighed. "I really don't think that's in the cards, Angelina."

"Then what would he ask you for?"

I shrugged. "I have no idea—unless he's bored."

"If he was bored, he could have asked anyone. Why ask his friend?"

"Maybe he thinks it'll cheer me up about Oliver?"

"Doubt it. I don't think he cares one jot about you and Ollie anymore. As far as he's concerned, it's over—which makes you available for him to make a move on!"

I paused in my tracks. "Hey…hey, Ange," I said slowly. "You don't think…you don't think he cleared this with Wood before he asked me, do you? Like…do you think he gave Fred the okay to ask me out? He must know about it if Fred was planning on it. They're friends as well as teammates, after all."

"I don't know. Why does it matter, Katie?"

"Because if he did, that means Wood doesn't care that I'm going out with other blokes then," I sighed sadly.

Ange regarded me with a mixture of frustration and empathy. After a few more uncomfortable moments, she took my arm. "Well, come on then, drama darling," she said. "We'll go to dinner and discuss it later."

I shook my head. "No way. I haven't answered Fred yet, and I still haven't made up my mind. Seeing him at dinner will be awkward."

To my surprise, she actually nodded her head. "Yeah, you're right. Let's grab Al and get something from the kitchens."

XxX

"Definitely go," said Alicia solidly, taking a bit out of a piece of chicken. "Fred is _so _much less volatile than Ollie. That makes him more dependable!"

"Yeah, for about three days," I scoffed. "He'll end up putting the moves on me out of boredom and then the next day be back with Andrea."

"Who?"

"Just this younger girl I saw with him today."

"You mean Alexandra," corrected Angelina casually.

I raised my eyebrows at her. "You know about her? I thought you said you were over Fred."

She scowled. "I am. That's why I want you to go out with him."

I frowned, and looked between the pair of them. "You honestly both think I should?"

"_Yes,_ Katie, for God's sake," urged Alicia. "You've been pining over Wood for ages, it's time to move on to something else. Even if it's just a three day fling. And if it works out, you and I can always double with the twins! Besides, Ollie's been behaving like such a great _prick _lately…"

I sighed. "Yes, he has."

"So go," Angelina said. "Simple as that."

"I guess I will…" I trailed off, playing with a bit of thread sticking out of the carpet. "What harm could it do, right?"

"Exactly. Good. Now go down there and tell him you've made up your mind."

"Ange. It's one in the morning…I don't think Fred is in the common room."

"He is," Alicia piped up. "He was sitting there studying with someone in the corner when I was going back for seconds."

I scrunched my nose. "Fred Weasley? Studying?"

"Don't be so surprised…I've caught him at it from time to time. Even he and George have to stay in school, you know."

I shrugged my shoulders. "Guess so…though should I really go now? Seems a bit…"

"Please leave," Angelina said with the harsh tone of finality.

"You're a lot of help, you lot," I said rather resentfully, but I got up and went out the door. Closing it behind me, I backed up against the wall and smoothed my hair a little. _Oh, bugger. What was I doing? Was I honestly nervous about going out with Fred? Absurd._

I shook my head and started down the stairs. I'd just pretend to be getting a glass of water and then act surprised when I saw him down there and strike up a conversation. Completely natural.

The common room was almost completely shrouded in darkness as the last embers of the fire dwindled away into ash. Still, I saw a figure in the corner looking over a book and tensed up. I moved slowly over to the water pitcher, pretending to be unaware of seeing him there.

"So I hear you're going on a date with one of my Beaters."

I froze. Ruddy Alicia! It was fucking Wood in the corner, not Fred! He must have been the other person she had seen; of course Oliver was up looking over his playbook at one in the morning while Fred was off snoring away in his bed. I slowly set down the pitcher and turned around to face the lad I hadn't spoken to in over two weeks.

"He asked me out if that's what you mean," I said calmly, sitting down in the chair opposite him. I could barely make out his facial expressions from the dim firelight, but they looked fairly serious. Of course it was me to be the only person to make the exciting, popular Oliver Wood behave like a studious, boring prude.

He nodded. "It seems like you two have been spending a lot of time together lately," he added in a voice that sounded unreasonably suspicious.

I raised an eyebrow. "Oliver, we're best friends. I _always _see a lot of him."

"Friends? Are you sure that's all?" His tone sounded more accusatory and for some reason, it offended me.

"Yes, I'm _sure_," I replied with equal ice.

He shrugged his shoulders, returning to his playbook. "Alright."

I continued to stare at him. "Why?" I asked.

"Just curious."

There was an awkward pause in which it occurred to me that Oliver probably couldn't even see his playbook. He must have been down here in the dark brooding after Fred went to bed. Over Quidditch plays they had been discussing? Or…possibly me?

"You haven't been talking to me lately," I said finally. The statement couldn't help but be touched with a little of the sadness I had been carrying around for months.

"Yeah I know, it's been a while…" he trailed off. "I guess I've been a bit busy."

He looked away.

"But…you still talk to Ange and Al and the others."

He frowned. "Look, Kate, I thought we discussed this and decided not to bring it up again. I'm not comfortable dating a member of my team, remember?"

I stared at the floor. "Yes, I _remember_," I said bitterly, as unsatisfied as ever with his bullshit answer. "And yes, I am going out with _your beater_. His name's Fred, by the way. We're going out Friday. I'm not sure what we're doing, but I bet it will be great."

I looked up to see his reaction. He looked flustered.

"So you're excited, then?" he asked finally. It may have been my imagination, but he looked slightly bitter.

"Yes," I lied. "I just hope that Fred will actually _talk _to me, you know? And not be embarrassed to be seen with me. It's hard when they are."

He looked rather taken aback. "I'm sure he won't be," he said finally. "And Fred's good at talking."

"Yeah, he is." Another pause. "You know I was taking the piss, right?"

"Yeah, I know…"

"Did you?"

"…No."

In spite of myself, I felt a little guilty. Wood had never said he was embarrassed to be seen with me, and he certainly hadn't been over the summer.

"I'm sorry," I said quickly. "I was just trying to get you to lighten up."

"Yeah. Well…I'd better get to bed." He got up and moved toward the boys' dormitories. I stared, trembling slightly, at the seat he had just vacated. Acting on a sudden impulse, I turned around and called back to him.

"Just…don't avoid me in the future, okay?"

He stopped on the third step to look at me curiously. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said. "I'm not avoiding you. I see you at practice and stuff. I'm just…busy. I told you."

_The bloody liar._ I sighed. "Never mind. Good night."

"Night."

I turned back around to face the empty fireplace, feeling silent tears form behind my eyes and begin to blur my vision. What had this come to? Were we really to the point that we were taking subtle stabs at each other over the fact that whatever we had wanted to happen between us had just died without even being given the chance to develop? I pictured us on a battlefield, Oliver in one trench and me in another, silently hurling bombs at each other without being brave enough to enter the no man's land and say what we really felt. Of course, there were obvious reasons for that. Entering no man's land meant there was a pretty good chance you were going to be shot. Good old Muggle Studies…

"Katie Kate?"

_Damn_. I quickly wiped my eyes and turned around to face Fred.

"Yes?" I asked, perhaps a little too quickly.

"George said Wood said you were down here…are you alright?"

"I'm fine. What are you doing up so late?"

"Testing merchandise. George and I are trying the new prototype on Marcus Flint in the morning."

I nodded. "Good luck with that," I said. As amusing as Fred and George's 'joke shop' was, it tended to be equally annoying. With Lee's help, the girls and I were constantly in danger of growing feathers out our ears or having our noses turn green.

Fred poured himself a glass of water and sat down next to me. "Can I join you, Katie Kate?"

"Please do."

Fred appeared to be in his weird 'concerned' zone again tonight, a revival of what I had seen earlier in the afternoon—it was odd, but somehow comforting.

"Katie Kate…you're not alright. Do you want to talk?"

I sighed. "I'm sorry, Freddie. You know I've been a bit…off for a while. Don't take it too much to heart."

"Yes, I know. I started to notice when you stopped laughing at my bad jokes. You don't even let me sing to you anymore."

I laughed a little. "I miss that," I admitted.

"Well then…I believe you are in for a treat."

"What? Where are you going, Fred?"

"Be right back, love."

I smiled in spite of myself and watched as he disappeared and then reemerged from the darkness, carrying the old beat up guitar he had bought back in our second year. I laughed as he hopped over the couch and adopted his most serious look, beginning to sing.

"Katie, Katie Bell,

I won't ask you to get it on tonight!

Because you're sad, and that…

Just wouldn't be right!

But Katie, Katie Bell,

You're pretty foxy,

And that's tight!

And I'm a man, and it's getting pretty late

Alright!

So let's forget about rules and just…

Get it on tonight!"

He dropped the guitar, grinning. I laughed.

"Well?"

"Very nice, Freddie," I admitted.

"It's Wood again, isn't it?" he asked, frowning.

I looked away, and he sighed.

"Kates…please…I really don't like seeing you sad. It hurts somewhere deep when I see you with that look in your eyes and I know that just a few months ago, that space would have been reserved for malicious twinkling after tripping the Malfoy kid in the hallways."

I forced myself to grin a little. "I'm sorry, Fred." It was all I could managed.

He smiled. "So do you want to go on a date, then? With me, I mean. Not Wood. I don't care if you want to go out with him, that's your business. What do you say?"

I sucked in my breath and forced comparisons with Oliver to stop clouding my knowledge of the way he had just treated me a few moments ago.

"Yes, alright."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

He punched the air and I grinned in spite of myself.

"See?" he happily. "That's the girl I like to see. Now…I think you need to get to bed because it's officially 1:30 and that, according to me, is later than either of us should be up. So let's get some shut-eye, shall we?"

I smiled. "Alright."

"Good night Katie Kate, the Katie Kate of my dreams…"

"Night, Freddie."

I climbed up the stairs and couldn't help but smile watching Fred climb up the opposite set, his guitar hanging loosely from the shoulder strap, face grinning cheekily as he sang under his breath.

"Oh Katie, Katie Bell…

Let's get it on tonight."


	4. Date?

I strode over to where Fred had told me to meet him in the Three Broomsticks. Typical Weasley—invite me on a date on Hogsmeade weekend and then let me meet him there. I had bid goodbye to Angelina and Lee, who were heading over to the village branch of Quality Quidditch Supplies, and then entered the small pub and found Fred on his own, hunched over his butterbeer. Something about seeing him in this attitude made me stop and cock my head to one side. _Did he look almost…cute?_ He was dressed rather more nicely than usual in a button-down shirt and what must have been one of Mrs. Weasley's famous Christmas sweaters, and his hair looked as though he had actually attempted to make sense of it. And he was all on his own, waiting for me.

_Oh, no wait…yes, there went the adorable factor, quick as it had come_. Fred had now turned around to face a couple of third year girls behind him and wink, causing them to erupt into giggles. I rolled my eyes.

"You've reached new lows, you realize this," I stated, plopping down in the chair across from him. "They're _fourteen_."

"Katie Kate!" Fred cried joyously on seeing me. "You've come!"

"You asked me," I reminded him.

"_And_ you've combed your hair for me," he continued, dismissing my comment. "A double blessing!"

"I always comb my hair."

"I can't always tell."

"Shut up."

"You know…you're not being very nice to the person who asked you on a date. You might practice a little civility."

"It was a joke."

"I couldn't tell."

"I'm very dry."

We said staring across the table at one another. I raised an eyebrow.

"Do you think your automatic joke reflex is the reason you have problems with men?" Fred questioned after a moment.

"I do not have problems with men!" I pouted, folding my arms across my chest. He just looked at me, and the stare was enough to shut me up.

Unwittingly, I cast my eyes to the large window next to our table and scanned the crowd outside for Oliver. After a split second, I realized what I was doing. And that I was on a date with the infamous Fred Weasley.

"You're looking ridiculously charming, Katie Kate," said Fred offhandedly.

"Freddie, why did you ask me out?" I questioned. It had been on my mind since he'd asked me out Tuesday, and as I figured he held me in no romantic regard, I resolved to know his intentions.

"Because I'm sexually attracted to you," he answered quickly.

"You're sexually attracted to everyone," I quipped. "And you know that's not true."

"Fair enough."

"So why'd you ask me out?"

"Because I want to touch you inappropriately."

"That's repulsive."

"I'm surprised to hear that, coming from someone as liberal-minded as yourself."

"_You're_ the one who deemed it inappropriate, thus indicating your disapprobation to the activity," I shot back, smiling coolly.

"And _that_ is why I asked you out!" Fred said triumphantly. "To find out if Katie Bell still resided in your tragic figure. Now that I am certain she does, I have a plan to unveil."

"Wha-?" I started, but before I could even form a coherent thought, Fred was yelling again.

"GEORGE!" he shouted.

"Oh, God."

This could not be decent. Fred alone is dangerous enough to warrant him illegal in several countries. Fred plus George is actually lethal. I cursed, wondering what I had unwillingly wandered into as George ambled over from the bar where I failed to notice he had been sitting, just waiting for his cue.

"Hi, Kates," he said brightly.

"I thought you had a date with Alicia," I said darkly.

"I abandoned it in your interest, love."

"She told you she needed to work on homework, didn't she?"

George looked uncomfortable, and I rolled my eyes.

"_Fred_," I said sternly. "Whatever this is, it's not happening."

"NO!" he cried. "That's why it's brilliant! Nobody _will _know it's happening, except for the three of us here at this little table."

"What the hell could you possibly be planning?"'

"To help you win back Wood."

"_WHY_?"

"Do I need a reason? You're one of my best mates, love."

"You must have an underlying interest. You _always_ have an underlying interest."

Fred shrugged. "Well, if truth be told, I rather fancy shagging Oliver's cousin Susan, and I need him busy with you so he won't notice." He said this with a smirk on his face, but he looked strangely insincere about it.

"And you, George?"

"You're getting ruddy awful in Potions. Instead of paying attention, you write poems about Wood in your notebook and we end up getting failing marks on our projects. And you know I can't get anyone else to be my partner after the porcupine incident."

"You're despicable," I said, disgusted. "The pair of you."

"Thank you," the twins chorused.

I frowned. On one hand, I was very glad that "the date" with Fred had not been an actual date—that would clear up the talks in the dormitory. But on the other, accepting the twins' help was tempting. _Too_ tempting, in fact. And shouldn't Oliver pick me because of my own merit? Not because of some foul plan concocted by the Weasleys? Love was free of deception. Love was not love, which altered when it alteration finds...

"Quit moralizing," Fred said, strangely guessing my thoughts. "And do business with us."

"We're brilliant businessmen," George echoed.

I bit my lip. "What exactly did you have in mind…?"


	5. The Proposal

_What exactly did you have in mind?_

I cannot believe that those words had crossed my lips. But they just had, and as far as the Weasley twins were concerned, that was the equivalent of a golden stamp of approval.

"I'm glad you asked!" Fred shouted triumphantly, and he proceeded to unfold a large piece of parchment with a rather detailed flowchart scrambled across it.

My eyes widened. "You're joking," I said.

"Not in the slightest," George continued.

"I took the liberty of drawing this up this morning," Fred proudly stated.

"You didn't even know I was going to agree this morning!" I protested. "And I _still _haven't agreed, by the way."

"You practically have," Fred said dismissively. "And really, what choice do you have, Sweet Kates? _Your _way of doing things obviously hasn't produced the desired results—"

"Hey!" I protested, but George instantly shushed me by shoving an entire Pumpkin Pastie into my mouth.

"And it's obvious that you still _lurrrve _dear Ollie-wog, so what is there to lose?" Fred finished with a flourish.

"My dignity!" I shouted, after choking down the last bit of pastie.

The twins stared at me. George blinked.

"I think your last shred of dignity exited your being after you attempted to avoid Wood after tying your shoe this week," Fred stated plainly.

This was hard to argue with. I sighed. "Okay, okay," I said. "Tell me the plan."

"Excellent," Fred grinned wickedly.

"Okay," George began. "What we were thinking was your basic four-stage plan."

"Right," Fred continued. "Surveillance, Enemy Analysis, Sabotage, and Action."

"Each stage obviously has an indefinite period of duration, with Stage Four being the most volatile…"

"But given your past history with Captain Wood and your relative charm in comparison with Miss Chelsey Foster, we estimate possible completion around, oh...well tell her, George."

"Two months," George finished.

"_Two months?_" I shouted, causing several people to stare. "Sorry," I muttered. I lowered my voice. "Seriously…two months? Valentine's Day is next month! I was sort of hoping to—you know—be _not_ single at that point."

George shrugged. "Sorry Kates, we do what we can—and we _are_ good, but your relative inexperience with romance combined with the attractions of Chelsey Foster…well…there's not too much we can do to compete with that."

I gasped. "Are you saying I'm less attractive than _Chelsey Foster_?"

"_I'm_ not, Katie Kate," Fred put in quickly. "I've snogged her. Rubbish, actually. But what George is saying, if I may, is that you didn't solicit our help in time. If you would have contacted us during Christmas, that may have sped the process up, but as it is…"

"_Solicited?"_ I scoffed.

"Okay, okay," Fred continued. "So timing is off _in general_. That's agreed. But this time frame is as good as any, Katie Kate."

"It will be just in time for your birthday," George pointed out.

"And allows for four months of relationship bliss until Ollie-pop graduates in June," Fred finished. "So what do you say? Are we in business?"

I hesitated, biting my lip nervously at the glowing faces of the Weasley twins seated across from me. Fred seemed particularly anxious.

"And you're really in this purely out of interest in Susan Wood and your Potions grade, respectively?" I questioned.

"And concern for you," Fred pointed out.

I continued to stare at them. "Well alright," George conceded. "We're a bit bored. We're short of funds for the joke shop plan and we needed a project."

Fred nodded vigorously. I thought of Oliver and stared at the falling snow outside the window pane.

"Alright," I said against my better judgment. "I'm in."

XxX

I took great pleasure in announcing the events of the day to Angelina and Alicia that evening. Though a bit crestfallen that Fred and I were not in love and on our way toward marriage and children, they were intrigued by the twins' plan.

"George didn't say anything to me," Alicia complained loudly. The twins were off somewhere with Lee for 'Charms practice' and the girls and I were seated around the fireplace.

"Maybe because you holed yourself up in the library and sent him to Hogsmeade alone," I drawled. She gave me a look.

Angelina had been quiet up until this point. I was waiting for her to state her opinion as she usually did within five minutes. Her opinion was usually the opposite of mine, and she rarely minded saying it.

"Well," she finally said. "I still don't buy it."

I let out a sigh of annoyance. "Angelina," I groaned. "Why are you always determined to disagree with me? Fred and George have souls, you know. They're not _always _out for their own self-interest."

"Pursuing Susan Wood is the lamest excuse I've ever heard come out of Fred Weasley's mouth," she continued. "He fancies you. I'm sure of it."

"_Why?_" I exploded.

"He flirts with you!"

"He flirts with _everyone_. He flirts with Professor McGonagall!"

"Not the way he flirts with _you_. He always pays special attention to you, Katie, you can't deny it!"

I had stopped listening to her, however, as I noticed Oliver Wood walk through the portrait hole with a couple of his mates. Predictably, my heart quickened. How was it fair that he was always the first person I looked for in a crowd, and yet he barely seemed aware of anyone else's presence? Including mine?

I watched him sit down at a table, and with a small glance toward me, his expression immediately sobered. I quickly looked away, fire building inside my cheeks. I kept stealing glances at him, however, as I half-heartedly continued arguing as Angelina prattled away. How could he be so indifferent to my being here? Only a couple of months ago he would have sat in the corner and exchanged glances with me all evening till everyone went to bed. Then we would sit up and talk. Now, my only hope was that my pathetic inability to get over him was some sign that we were meant to be together.

He sat back with his friends and laughed, having seemingly forgotten I was present. He had promised me he wouldn't avoid me, hadn't he? So much for that.

Suddenly, the portrait hole swung open again and I followed Oliver's eyes to where his roommate Andrew Boot was escorting in none other than Chelsey Foster and one of her other Ravenclaw friends. I felt my stomach fall through the floor as Wood grinned and walked over to where they were.

"I found 'em, mate!" Boot was saying. "They got lost in one of the passageways."

Then the volume of their conversation lowered, and all I was could see was Oliver smiling flirtatiously at Chelsea as he casually slipped a hand around her waist and directed her back to the corner table where I had sat with him in the dark just a few days before. I honestly felt physically ill.

A broad grin spread across Oliver's face as Chelsey seemed to be telling a story with great animation, and his eyes brightened in a way that I recognized. I could feel Angelina's and Alicia's eyes on me, and sense their discomfort with the situation, but I ignored them. I saw Oliver's eyes flick toward mine a couple of times, and I pretended to be intensely interested in a spot on the wall behind him. Then I realized that Chelsey was watching me just as curiously.

Acutely horrified, I turned back around and stared into the fire in shock. I knew they had been flirting lately, but had this actually progressed to a state where he invited her over into our common room? The relative safety and sanctity of _our common room_? It was too much.

Unable to bear it any longer, I stood up and walked up to my room without saying goodnight to the girls.

I slammed the door shut and ran over to my bed which had a note sitting on the pillow. Trying to clear my head, I unfolded it. The familiar sloppy handwriting negated the need for the signature at the bottom.

"Operation Oliver begins tomorrow! Be looking as chipper and cute as ever tomorrow morning, wouldn't want to be drab for Stage One—Surveillance! -Fred"

I crumpled up the note and threw it under my bed, instantly tossing the covers over my head without bothering to take off my makeup or my uniform.

Sometimes I hate being me.


	6. Phase One: Surveillance

The next morning found me hiding out underneath my covers and absolutely unwilling to emerge. _Yes, this was perfect. It was like a little fort or a stronghold. Let's see them try to take me down now. I'll blow their bloody heads off. I've got my wand._

"Katie," Alicia said patronizingly.

I ignored her.

"Katie, come to breakfast," Angelina tried.

I extended my arm out from underneath my blanket tent just long enough to grab my pillow and pull it inside.

"Katie!" Ange snapped.

"Shut uuuuurrrrp," I let out of one side of my mouth.

I could almost see the girls roll their eyes. "Suit yourself, then," Angelina said, and the two departed.

So much the better.

I was not getting up this morning. Or maybe all day. All week, more like. Or forever. That might do nicely.

No. I would get up once the kitchen served cheeseburgers for dinner. Musn't be desperate.

I burrowed further into the soft, warm cocoon of sheets, blankets, and pillows and closed my eyes to block out the rising sun streaming in from the window. It was too early to be bright.

In all honesty, I probably could have overcome the exhaustion if I had wanted to. But it was one of those mornings where just the thought of getting out of bed and facing Oliver's apathetic face across the breakfast table made me want to live as an invalid.

Saturday and Sunday had been equally dreadful, Oliver spending his free time in the common room, with Chelsey Foster in tow once again. It was now impossible to try and deny the fact that they fancied each other.

Even now, my throat clenched at the thought of it. The problem was that when you lose someone, it's not the fact that the whole tiny microcosm of a world you've created around them disintegrates that is the worst; neither is it the fact that everything you see or do reminds you of them. It's the thought of knowing that after having tried you out, you have been marked as not good enough by the one person you really…well. Maybe I didn't love Oliver. But I _could have_, if he had let me.

That was why I was still in my pajamas instead of at breakfast, and why half of my hair was pressed flat against the pillow and the other stood up in pathetic little peaks and horns, and why my mascara was still smudged across my face.

I peeked one eye open in order to stare out at the gray, drizzly sky through the window.

"You were the nicest thing I've ever seen," I murmured.

I burrowed back into the confines of my comforter and fell asleep once again.

XxX

At around ten thirty, my off-and-on mixture of sleep and laziness was disturbed by a pair of bright blue eyes peeking underneath my comforter.

"AAAAAAAH!" I shrieked. "Fred! What the hell are you doing?"

"Come to class, Katie Kate," Fred said easily. "We're halfway through Transfiguration and everyone misses you."

"Everyone knows me as 'that Gryffindor chaser'," I said dryly, after recovering from the shock of seeing Fred in my dorm room. "I sincerely doubt they miss me."

"Well, _I_ miss you," he continued casually. "Also, if you skip much more, your grades are going to get even lower. You may end up in remedial courses."

"Bugger off!" I yelled. And then, "How do you know about my grades?"

"It's my business to know," Fred replied with ease. "I'm your agent now, after all. And let me just say that staying in bed, pouting, swollen eyes, and failing grades are not going to impress Monsieur Wood."

"Fuck you," I said moodily, and disappeared again under the covers.

"You're as charming as ever, my dear," he said stalwartly and then proceeded to yank my covers away.

"Hey!" I shouted. "Was that really necessary?"

"Get dressed," Fred ordered as I scrambled to hide my mad hair and face. "I'll be waiting in the common room."

"How the hell did you even get up here?" I pouted.

"Broom," he replied easily. "And don't say 'hell,' dear. _Great _bedhead, by the way."

An hour later I trudged down the stairs to meet Fred and George's beaming faces.

"Looking much better, love," Fred said cheerily.

I glanced from him to his twin. "Why are you both here?" I asked darkly.

George shrugged. "I'm here for backup."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Backup? What did you think I would do to you, Fred? Scratch your eyes out and dance on your grave?"

"Let's go to class," Fred said, ignoring me and guiding me out the portrait hole. "It's Divination! And then Phase One begins tonight and we have plans to go over!"

"Oh dear Merlin," I groaned, allowing the twins to push me out the door.

XxX

I allowed myself to be pulled by the arm by Fred as he sat me down on a pouf in Divination and forced a quill into my hands. I slumped in my seat, staring listlessly into the crystal ball in the middle of the table and thought about Oliver.

Fred and George sat on either side of me, Lee taking my normal place with the girls for the day. Fred claimed I was at risk for a pathetic backslide today and therefore insisted I not be out of his or George's sight. The twins made bad jokes about each other's futures which I was supposed to be recording, and I chewed on the end of the quill apathetically.

When Professor Trelawney asked what I saw in the crystal ball, I replied solemnly that I saw nothing for myself other than a cold, loveless future. She gave me an 'O.' Fred and George laughed until they cried.

After scribbling down the twins' dictations for our group work, I pawned the parchment off on Alicia to turn in and Fred did a rather obvious scope of the room before pulling out a very large piece of parchment filled with scribblings, drawings, and directions. Against my better judgment, I scooted closer to George to see what it was.

"Map of the castle's piping system," George said shortly, seemingly reading my thoughts.

"_What_?" I asked. _"Why?_"

"For tonight," he replied, seeming annoyed. "Duh!"

"_Duh_," I mocked, sticking my tongue out at George. Fred caught my eye and smirked.

"We're travelling by pipe, Kates," Fred explained in whisper.

"Again, may I ask why?" I said contemptuously.

"Well it's not like we can just walk into the Ravenclaw common room and ask to be escorted to Chelsey's room," Fred said as though this was all extremely obvious.

I rolled my eyes. "_Fine_," I said. "What do I do?"

"You keep out of the way," George answered. "You're loud. You'll get us caught."

"I will not!" I protested.

The twins exchanged glances.

"Katie my Belle," Fred said in his sappiest voice possible. "We were rather hoping you could be our station in the _Gryffindor _common room."

"What am I supposed to do there?" I asked impatiently.

"Well ideally, you'd be doing our Herbology homework."

"Fred! You dragged me out of bed, you said you needed me!"

"We do! We're rotten at Herbology and your marks are decent. Well, at least they were before you decided to play Miss Havisham and hole up in your room instead of going to class."

I glared at the pair of them. They huddled together in a conference. I huffed impatiently as they hissed together, and George whispered very loudly the words "bloody calamity!"

"Katie," Fred said finally. "Upon serious consideration, George and I feel that while we both appreciate your…effervesence, your tendency to be slightly calamitous may inhibit our ability to properly observe and catalog your competition—"

"Shut up," I said. "If I let the pair of you go by yourselves, you'll just end up ogling the Ravenclaws in their underthings. I'm coming."

The twins exchanged a glance.

"Fine," Fred agreed, looking rather defeated.

XxX

"I can't believe you're actually going through with this," Angelina said scathingly as she peered at me that night from over the top of her Muggle Studies textbook.

I was pulling my hair back into a ponytail while simultaneously searching for black jeans. Fred and George had insisted I dress incognito.

"And I can't believe you're not trying to stop me," I shot back without paying her much attention.

"You know I couldn't if I tried," she snapped. "And besides, you know the real reason you're doing this."

"My sordid infatuation with Oliver?" I said.

"Your subconscious aching for more time with Fred."

"Oh God, Angie, give it a rest," I complained, tying up my black Converse tennis shoes. "I know I've got poor taste in men, but I haven't descended to those lows yet."

She rolled her eyes. "I still say he wants you."

I ignored her and smoothed my hair back absentmindedly. Alicia walked through the door a few seconds later, her blonde hair fairly mussed.

"How's George?" I said, raising my eyebrows. She blushed deeply.

"Fred and George are waiting for you downstairs," she said, ignoring my snarky comment.

"Enjoy crawling through sewage!" Angelina called, and I slammed the door shut.

XxX

Fred and George were sporting matching berets and black jumpers. George's was slightly askew.

"You two look like morons," I greeted.

Fred was grinning at some nameless fourth year, and winked. "Top secret, Tiffany, can't say," he was saying cheekily. "Oh hello there, sunshine," he said upon seeing me.

I rolled my eyes. "Let's just get this over with, please," I said. "I've got a bed to attend to."

"And homework," Fred reminded me. "Transfiguration."

"Lay off with the Transfiguration stuff, alright? Now…where are we entering these pipes?"

Twenty minutes later, George was leading the way through the rusty, disgusting piping system of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Fred followed, backpack clanking against the occasional turn, and I brought up the rear, cursing every few seconds.

"Are you _sure_ you know where you're going, George?" I whined. "I'm crawling through the most unbelievable shit back here!"

"I know, I crawled through it first, Kates!" he returned. "Nearly there!"

Exactly five seconds later, I ran into Fred's buttocks which had come to sudden halt.

"Aaaargh!" I yelled, only to hear George's insistent shushing.

"If you felt that way, Kates, you should have just said so," Fred whispered cheekily, turning to face me. "Would have negated the whole purpose of this mission."

"You're disgusting," I said impatiently. "Now what's going on?"

"Hush, you two!" George said importantly. "I think we're here! Fred, screwdriver please…"

"What do you need a screwdriver for?" I hissed, but this time they both glared at me, simultaneously putting fingers to their lips.

Fred expertly slid the backpack from his shoulders, and extracted a long metal tool which he gave to George who stuck it into a screw in the vent and twisted until it loosened. Fred carefully removed the vent and set it silently down on the bottom of the pipe, revealing an entrance just large enough for the three of us to squeeze through.

Once past the vent, we were crawling over rafters and flimsly floorboards until we reached yet another, larger vent. This time, George twisted the panels so that a clear view of what was—miraculously—the Seventh Year Ravenclaw girls' dormitory.

I gasped in appreciation, impressed, but Fred clapped his hand tightly over my mouth and gave me a stern look. I shoved him off, but held my tongue.

Below, Chelsey Foster and three of her roommates were apparently getting ready for bed. One of the girls, a tall redhead, was drying her hair with a towel and another was sitting at the vanity, mindlessly combing her hair. Chelsey was sitting on her bed, still in her uniform, talking to another girl across the room who was loosening her tie.

"I hate to admit it, but I'm not really understanding the theory behind the Confundus Charm," said Chelsey's friend, hanging up her tie neatly in her wardrobe. In a moment of ridiculousness, I pictured the many ties in my own dormitory which were hung lazily around bedposts and strewn across the floor.

"I think I've got it down pretty well," Chelsey replied. "We'll look at it together during the study period tomorrow, okay Michelle?"

_Typical Ravenclaws_. Even after school hours, they were discussing schoolwork.

This conversation continued for another twenty minutes during which time my eyes began to glaze over. Fred and George, however, were at the utmost attention, ears perked and eyes eager. When the other girl, Michelle, stepped out of her skirt, Fred shoved his fist in his mouth and his eyes widened hungrily. I scoffed loudly, moving my body to cover the vent.

"Katie!" the twins hissed simultaneously. I just gave them a look and they frowned but relented.

Then, out of nowhere, I heard my name.

"—I just don't know what to think about that Katie Bell…"

I immediately leapt off the vent, and Fred mindlessly grabbed my hand.

I stared at him. "What are you doing?" I whispered.

"Sorry," he said, quickly releasing my hand. In the dark, I almost thought I saw him blush but I must have been mistaken. "Listen!"

I turned my attention below. Chelsey was now in pajamas and sitting on Michelle's bed.

"Who?" Michelle asked, looking slightly confused.

"Oh, that younger girl on his team," she said dismissively. "Not the blonde, or the tall black girl. The other one."

"What about her?"

"I don't know…he talks about her a lot."

My stomach flipped over. He did? I looked over at Fred to see his reaction, but his face was unreadable.

"So?"

"Well I just wonder if that means anything, you know? Besides, when I was over there with him last night, she kept looking over at him…"

"So?" Michelle repeated. "Wood is _fine, _and he's her captain. She's just a little girl with a pathetic little crush—doesn't mean he feels the same. Wood is very obviously into _you_."

All of a sudden, my blood was boiling. _Little girl? Pathetic crush? _What the hell did this girl know about me? Or Oliver, for that matter?

Feeling incredibly angry and very ashamed, I sat up and crawled away quickly, reentering the relative safety of the pipe.

"Katie!" Fred and George both hissed after me. "Katie, where are you going? We're not finished!"

"I don't care," I said once we were all back in the pipe. "You stay. I'm not listening to that."

They followed me, however, George claiming I would get lost and get us all caught.

"Well," Fred said slowly once we reentered the now-empty Gryffindor common room. "What was that stunt for?"

"Are you kidding me?" I exploded, whirling around. George's eyes grew large and he backed up a couple of steps.

"You heard them!" I continued. "That girl said I was a little girl with a pathetic crush!"

"So?" Fred said, looking slightly annoyed with my antics. "She was saying that to comfort her friend. She doesn't know you. What she says doesn't prove anything."

"Well exactly!" I said ridiculously. "What does she know? What right does she have to say those things?"

By this time, George had reached the stairs and with a quick look to his twin as if to say "You've got this one, right?" he dashed up the stairs.

Fred sighed and slumped down in the nearest armchair. He yawned, rubbing his eyes and looking exasperated.

"Kates, you've got to stop basing your opinion of yourself on what others say about you," he said seriously, staring down at the carpet.

I scoffed. "That's easy for you to say, everyone loves you!" I complained. "You pull a couple of cheap tricks and pull out your guitar and half the castle's mad in love with you or wants to be you. You don't know what it's like to want something you can't have."

He just looked at me.

"Sorry," I said, sighing and joining him on a close couch. I tried not to think about how odd it was that Fred Weasley was critiquing me on proper social protocol. "That wasn't fair of me to say. You and George were right to want me to stay here. I messed things up pretty bad, didn't I?"

Fred returned to some form of his usual self. "Not necessarily," he answered, musing. "We did learn that Wood still speaks of you often. That's a good sign."

"It is?" I asked, curious to hear a male's interpretation.

"'Course it is," he replied easily. "He's talking about you, that means he's thinking about you. Now, I'm tired and you should be too. Let's get to bed."

I smiled weakly. "I'd love to, but a friend reminded me I've got Transfiguation homework to do."

Fred grinned. "You get sleep," he said. "You can copy my essay in the morning."

I grinned widely, throwing myself at him in a bear hug. "I owe you one, Freddie!"

"This is the last time, though," he said, toussling my hair. "Tomorrow you're signing a statement that says you're accepting responsibility for your life."

"Fair enough," I agreed.

XxX


	7. Valentine Announcement

"So how did your perverted adventure with voyeurism go?" Angelina asked rather bluntly at the breakfast table the next morning. The first day I voluntarily come down to breakfast in expectation of a slightly better day, and Angelina puts a damper on it. Figures.

"It would have gone better if Katie hadn't sabotaged it," George said snidely as he buttered his toast. "Practically ruined the whole bloody operation."

"You mean the part where I blocked the vent so you and Fred couldn't spy on the Ravenclaws in their underthings?" I asked dryly.

George yelped as Alicia hit him with a book.

"I think George meant the part where you freaked over what Elizabeth Dowry said," Fred stupidly interjected. "Kates left in a tiff before all the evidence was collected," he explained to the others after seeing my angered face.

Angelina just rolled her eyes. "I would try to express astonishment at everything all three of you just said, but I can't pretend anymore," she said.

This managed to offend all of us. Luckily, Alicia piped up.

"What did Chelsey Foster say?" she asked curiously.

But at that moment, Wood came in freshly showered after what I figured was an early morning solo quidditch run. I stared at him moonily, wondering what he said about me to Chelsey and managing to completely tune out Alicia.

"Hellooo-oo, Katie," Alicia called, waving a hand in front of my face.

"It's no good, Leesh," Fred said in a somewhat annoyed tone. "Wood's entered the premises."

"I'm perfectly capable of functioning with or without Oliver Wood," I suddenly snapped. "And I'll thank you to remember that. I just didn't feel like answering, is all."

"Oh yeah?" Alicia challenged. "Then what did I say?"

I was happily spared from answering the question to which I did not know the answer by Albus Dumbledore approaching the pulpit for a rare morning announcement.

"Good morning, Hogwarts," Dumbledore beamed. His miraculous ability to captivate the entire school did not fail, and within half a second every student with the exception of a few snoozing Slytherins was paying rapt attention.

"I am aware that recent events this year may have cast somewhat of a grim pallor over our normally cheerful educational environment," Dumbledore continued in his characteristic way. "Therefore, some of the staff and I have decided it would be a good idea to host a ball in light of the upcoming holiday."

"He _cannot _be talking about—" I began.

"Valentine's Day!" Dumbledore called, radiating bliss from his wrinkled old face.

"_NO!_" I shouted, rather too loudly. Half of the school whipped around in their seats to stare at me. The girls glared.

"Oh yes, Miss Bell," the headmaster said, bemused. "On the night of St. Valentine's Day next week, Hogwarts will be hosting a Valentine's Day Ball, and every student is invited free of charge! More details from your Head of Houses later tonight."

Girls screamed. A few boys groaned. Dumbledore sat down, looking faintly pleased at the effect his announcement had had on the school.

I felt the pit of my stomach sink and involuntarily looked at Oliver, who had cast his eyes downward as though trying to avoid eye contact with anyone. I transferred my gaze over to Chelsey who was glancing at Oliver as well, looking hopefully curious. Suddenly, she looked over at me and we instantly looked away. This whole significant looks thing was getting old rather fast.

"Oh what have you got your knickers in a twist for?" Angelina asked moodily. "Fred will obviously ask you, you'll have a date, and that will leave me stuck with Bozo Bob over here." She jabbed her thumb in the direction of Lee who looked affronted.

I rolled my eyes. "As if Fred would ask me when he has the rest of the castle at his disposal. I cannot _believe_ Dumbledore's doing this to us!"

_Still, though, wouldn't be too bad if Fred _did _ask me…he was helping me out, after all. We were mates, after all, and as a second option, he wouldn't be too bad…_

That thought was short lived, however. At that moment, a pretty third year I did not know the name of walked past our table and Fred called out, "Oi, Amber!"

The girl turned, looking slightly surprised.

"Fancy a date to the Valentine's Ball?" he asked, grinning. Amber blushed.

"Yes, alright," she said, smiling shyly and then walking away.

Fred turned back around to face us, looking rather pleased with himself.

"And it's as simple as that," he said happily.

George grinned and high-fived his brother while Alicia giggled slightly. Unexpectedly angry, I slammed my breakfast plate down on the table, startling everyone, and stalked out of the Great Hall.

Fred stared after me, open mouthed. "What's with her?" he asked.

XxX

I arrived in Transfiguration early, surprising Professor McGonagall as I sat down in my seat and pulled out my textbook. She looked at me curiously, but said nothing.

The rest of the students filed in presently, my own lot predictably at the end of the pack. Angelina looked at me accusatorily, but I gave her a warning glance and she settled down in a seat behind me. The rest of them helped fill out the back row, but Fred sidled in directly next to me, announcing that we would be table partners for the day. I ignored him.

He did not seem to notice my hostility and rummaged in his bag before pulling out a piece of parchment and sliding it over to me. I just looked at him.

"It's today's essay," he explained. "Copy it."

I narrowed my eyes. "I don't need your help," I said haughtily and looked away.

Fred appeared to be confused. "But last night…" he began.

"Well I've changed my mind," I interrupted shortly. "Now you'd better turn that in before it's late. You know how McGonagall likes things in before the bell."

"Kates, don't be ridiculous," said Fred sensibly. "You're failing—you need to do this essay."

"If you're so concerned about my grades, you copy it yourself," I said ridiculously. "As for me, I don't care."

Fred gave me a strange look, almost of surprise and disappointment, and then wordlessly pulled out a spare piece of parchment and used a spell to copy the contents of one onto the other. He scrawled my name across the top and then handed them both in.

McGonagall arched an eyebrow. "Thank you, Mr. Weasley," she said suspiciously. "Miss Bell, it's good to see you putting in an effort once more."

I just turned and stared out of the window. Fred returned to his seat in silence.

About halfway through the lesson, he leaned over and hissed in my ear, "Regardless of your personal feelings about today, or your Transfiguration grade, or Wood not leaping up immediately to ask you to the Valentine's Ball, you and I have still got work to do tonight."

In spite of myself, I turned to face him, confused.

"You know…" Fred prompted. "Our little _project_. You, me, George…in Wood's dorm room tonight. I've already mapped out a schedule."

"Don't care," I said promptly. "I'm not going."

"You're not going," Fred repeated. "Does this mean you've suddenly gotten over Mr. Oliver J. Wood?"

"No, it means I'm done working with _you_," I said crossly. And then, out of curiosity, "What's the J stand for?"

The redhead arched an eyebrow. "Why do you care?" he asked. "So you can complete the doodles in your notebook with a middle name?"

I did a quick scan to make sure McGonagall's head was turned and then I flipped him off.

"Really mature, Kates," Fred said, rolling his eyes. "Why are you cross with me anyway? I'm trying to help you, remember?"

"Yeah, so you can deflower Susan Wood."

"More like so I don't have to put up with any more of this rubbish."

"I'm so sorry to hear that my heartbreak is distressing to _you_," I said sarcastically. "Clearly, this is much less difficult for me."

Fred looked as though he were about to retort when Professor McGonagall interrupted.

"Mr. Weasley, Miss Bell," she said, clearing her throat. "Do you have something you'd like to share with the rest of us?"

"No, Ma'am," we both muttered. She moved on and neither of us spoke for the rest of the class period.

XxX

Angelina cornered me in study period with a note. She pushed the piece of parchment across the table to me, attempting to look unconcerned as Snape stared on suspiciously. I waited for him to turn his attention to a giggling Hufflepuff before unfolding it.

**What's with you and Fred?**

I crinkled my nose before replying.

_Nothing, other than the fact that I just realized his birth was payback for the sins of mankind._

**So it doesn't have anything to do with him asking a Third Year to the Ball?**

_Of course not. He's free to ask who he likes. Good riddance, I say._

**I only asked because that's what it looks like.**

_What? You're nutters._

**Well, it's what everyone's saying.**

_Who is EVERYONE?_

**Alicia, Lee, George…we all think you might be a little sweet on him.**

_You lot have really gone round the bend. Do you not realize that my entire world has been falling apart over the past few months because of Oliver Wood? Remember him? Tall, broad shoulders, devastatingly handsome Scottish accent…And wasn't it you just a few days ago who was insisting Fred was sweet on ME?_

**Oh, I still think he is. Just be careful—he could really burn you. And you don't need that.**

_Thanks for the seasoned advice, Ange, but it doesn't apply._

**Whatever you say. Just don't give him any reason to think you do. You know Fred…he'll act on it.**

_Snape's coming._

XxX

Determined not to give Fred, or more importantly, anyone else, reason to suspect I had feelings for him, I made my way over to where he and George sat in the library during study period.

"Move," I commanded George, picking up his things and shoving them toward him. He gave me a disgusted glare, but switched tables.

"Well hello there, ball of sunshine," Fred said suspiciously, both eyebrows raised. "May I help you?"

I took a deep breath to calm myself and to avoid yelling at him. "Yes," I said evenly. "You may tell me when to meet you this evening."

He continued to look at me skeptically. "Decided to recommit to our efforts at sparing you from a soulless, bottom-feeding existence, have we?"

I glared at him. "I would like to unsubscribe to whatever it is you're doing, and have a rational conversation, please."

Fred smiled in somewhat of a mocking manner. "You know, I would really like to know what it is about me that brings out this side of you, Kates," he said. "We must try to cure it if we're to make you fit for dear Ollie-wog."

"_Oliver_ never provokes me like you do, so there's little danger of that," I pointed out. "He is a relatively decent human being."

"Right, because leading you on and then abandoning you without ceremony is something all decent blokes do," Fred quipped.

"You're one to talk," I snapped.

Fred and I stared at one another for a few more seconds, silently sizing each other up, before he relented.

"Look," he said finally with a sigh. "I don't know why you're upset with me at the moment, but I'm going to let it go and move on, because you seem ready to and I'm not interested in starting a war with someone so verbally cutting—"

"What?"

"Oh come on, Katie, you're a bloody nightmare sometimes."

"Why didn't you ask Susan to the Valentine's Ball?" I suddenly blurted out. "That's who you're after now, isn't it? So what's the deal with this Amber person?"

Fred raised his eyebrows at me, apparently taken offguard by the sudden change in conversation.

"Since when do you care who I'm dating?"

"I don't," I stated strongly, but still looking away a bit. "I just don't understand why you'd say one thing and then do another."

He considered me for a moment with a look I couldn't read and then explained, "When you're pursuing someone long term, Kates, you don't charge ahead with no thought of the consequences. You take your time, weigh the considerations. The dance is just going to be a bit of fun."

"Oh, and what about Amber's feelings? Don't care if you cavalierly crush those, I suppose?"

Fred stared. "What's the problem, Katie? Is this even about Amber at this point?...or is this about you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Are you upset I didn't ask you to the Valentine's Day ball?"

I could feel all the blood in my body instantly rush to my face. "Where on _earth _would you get an idea like that?" I demanded.

"Well I honestly can't think of another reason you'd be pissed at me all day and then give me a lecture on supposedly hurting the feelings of girl you've never spoken to."

"That _isn't_ the reason, trust me. It's just this whole Wood thing is making me so angry at men who—"

"Look, I know we've been spending more time together and stuff," interrupted Fred, apparently ignoring my explanation for my behavior, "but the way to solve your problems isn't by sticking in your comfort zone. You've got to get _outside_ it, meet new people try new things—"

"God, Fred!" I shouted, now cringing to the point I threw my hands up beside my head to block out the embarrassing tirade of noise. "Just _please_ stop. That isn't the reason, okay? Just—just stop talking."

He did. And seeing that I was actually really quite distressed, he moved closer toward me.

"Hey, are you alright? Was it something I—"

I groaned, exasperated with the redhead and with myself. "Just tell me what time to meet you and George tonight," I pleaded.

"Ten o'clock," he said, after a brief pause. "And wear black again."

"Fine," I agreed, brushing my hand against the table as I exited.

_Bloody Weasleys._

XxX


	8. Phase One: Surveillance, Part Two

**A/N: So…this chapter ends kind of abruptly because it was getting a little long. But I'll tie it up in the next installment. Please read & review!**

By nightfall, I had managed to somewhat regain control of myself in the decorum department and having changed into yet another entirely black outfit, I made my way downstairs into the Common Room. The rest of the day had passed without too much embarrassment. Angelina had continued to bother me about Fred until well into dinner until she saw just how upset I was over Oliver and decided to lay off. My annoyance with Fred had ebbed in the face of Oliver angst, though I still said as little as possible to him for the remainder of our classes together. I was still feeling slightly embarrassed by our last encounter.

As for Wood himself, he seemed to be purposely avoiding eye contact with everyone. Both times I passed him in the hallway, he was staring at the floor and then at dinner, he ate without saying more than a few words to his mates, who were looking at him curiously. Even Chelsey couldn't rouse him. She came right up to him afterwards for some reason or another, and all he did was answer her question and then walk away. She looked rather upset, cast an angry glance at me, and then flounced back to the Ravenclaw table. I had the gravest doubts that Wood's solemnity had anything to do with me, but I liked knowing that Chelsey thought it did.

When I arrived at the bottom of the stairs, I spotted Fred and George standing casually by the fireplace in jeans and those stupid matching jumpers. I frowned.

"You're not wearing black," I said accusatorily as soon as I walked up.

George rolled his eyes. "Ding ding ding!" he said in a tone of the deepest sarcasm. "And you wonder why Dumbledore chose Alicia as Prefect over you…"

I glared at him until he shut up, and then turned to Fred.

"Let me rephrase," I said. "Why are you two not dressed incognito?"

"No need, Kates," Fred grinned. "We're going to Wood's room tonight, aren't we? It's just a couple of floors up. George and I gave Ollie-pop and all of his little mates reasons to be out of the dormitories until later, so we can just go up and nip under the beds until they get back."

"So why am _I _in black, then?"

"Because I asked you to be."

"Why would you do that?"

Fred shrugged. "Because you look nice in black. It's your best color."

"_Fred!"_

He covered his ears and pulled a face. "What?" he asked testily. "What did I say now?"

"Black is the color girls wear when they don't want to look fat!" I explained, rather horrified. "It's a _slimming _color. You think I'm fat!"

The twins exchanged a glance and Fred gave an exaggerated sigh.

"Would you stop it with the pseudo-psycho babble?" he frowned. "Ninety-nine percent of the time there's no hidden meaning. Men just _say _things, alright?"

I paused and looked away sheepishly. "So you don't think I'm fat, then?"

"No. God."

"We'd better get up there, they could be coming back soon," George put in, and Fred and I fell into single file behind him. I poked him in the back of the neck with my wand to vent some of my feelings.

He reached back and swatted at me without turning around. I hit him back, and we continued this way up the stairs until we reached the seventh year dormitories, at which point I stopped abruptly and stared at the door.

"Oi, Kates," Fred said, waving a hand in front of my face. Then he followed my gaze and stopped, rolling his eyes once he realized what I was doing. "Oh, right. Wood's room, and the ceremonial moment of silence to appreciate all of the wonderful things that have happened behind this door while he's occupied it."

"Stop it," I snapped, brushing him aside and moving forward to appreciate the door more fully. I rested my hand on the doorknob and shivered slightly, hardly knowing what would lie beyond. I somehow felt a thousand times worse for invading Oliver's privacy than I did Chelsey's, and couldn't help imagining that I was about to walk into his inner-most psyche. Or something to that effect.

George apparently didn't appreciate my hesitation either, because after about two seconds of watching me fail to turn the door handle, he pushed past me and opened the door abruptly. Fred shrugged his shoulders at my dismay and followed his brother. I brought up the rear, now at least satisfied that I hadn't been the one to physically initiate the spying.

Once inside the room, I squeezed between the twins—both of whom were over a foot taller than I was—in order to get a better view.

"Ah, the dwelling of a Hogwarts male," Fred said, breathing the air in a rather exaggerated fashion. "Nothing quite approaches it, does it, George?"

"Especially when someone decides to hatch doxey eggs underneath someone else's mattress," George replied rather darkly.

The twins began to bicker about who the doxey eggs originally belonged to, and I took the opportunity to look around the room. It was admittedly much neater than the disaster area that Fred, George, and Lee claimed, but it was still "boy neat." Quidditch posters and other photographs hung on the walls in a symmetrical, uninspired design, while textbooks and shoes were pushed away beneath wardrobes and desks.

Oliver's four-poster was instantly recognizable. Puddlemere posters and flags hung on the headboard, and his own Gryffindor quidditch jacket lay across the desk chair. His bed was made in a rather endearingly inept way, with the wrinkled covers pulled up carelessly over the mattress, and I saw—to my irrational delight—that he hung his tie around one of the bed posts in the same way that I hung mine. Oliver was evidently one of the neater roommates, and his textbooks and papers were piled in a corner on his desk. To the side was a framed picture of who I guessed were his parents, while the rest of the desk was cluttered with taped photographs of his posh Glasgow mates and potential quidditch plays.

I was just grinning at the small photo in the corner of our own quidditch team two years ago when Fred interrupted my stalking.

"Alright, Kates, you get first pick. Whose bed do you want to hide beneath?"

I gave him a look. "Oliver's, of course. Do you think I'm passing up an opportunity for gaining extra Wood-related knowledge? Besides, the rest of these look a little dodgy…"

"Well spoken," Fred commended, pulling out a quill and parchment pad from a nearby desk. "Down you go."

"Right," I nodded, and walked back around Oliver's four-poster to investigate beneath. I pushed a couple of boxes to the wall and then squirmed my way into a comfortable lying position where I was confident I could remain unseen. I was just getting comfortable when someone's shoulder rammed against my hip.

"Ouch! Fred!" I cried, looking back to see the redhead's grin flashing in the dark underside of Wood's bed. "What are you doing? I thought we were each getting our own bed!"

"Nope," he grunted, pulling himself along the floor until he was level with me. "Less chance of detection this way. Merlin, it's crowded under here, isn't it? Wood needs to get rid of some of this stuff…"

I scowled as he nearly elbowed me in the face, and struggled to inch further over. We were practically pressed up against one another in the tight space. The discomfort was nothing, though, to what it felt like when George attempted to sidle in beside us.

"Ugh…_George_!" we shouted in unison as he tried to force his way in beside us.

"George, you'll have to find another bed, mate," Fred said bracingly. "No room here."

"But you said we'd be together—you know we work better that way!" George protested.

"Yes, but unforeseen circumstances have—oh, go on, just get under Percy's bed, will you?"

"_Percy's_? Yeah, right. I'm not going under there just to find schoolgirl porn and plots to take over the universe…"

The door handle started to wobble, and I gasped.

"George, just go!" I hissed, managing to kick him with the underside of my black Converse.

I heard him scramble across the floor and dive under Percy's bed just as the door opened and four pairs of mixed trainers and school shoes appeared in the entryway. I instantly recognized Oliver's red Pumas and my breath hitched in my throat.

"Who left the lights on?" someone asked as the seventh years began to dissemble and head for their own beds and desks. I turned to glare at Fred, but he had conveniently found a piece of fuzz to become intensely interested in at that moment. I rolled my eyes.

The roommate was ignored, however, and a voice I recognized as belonging to Alex Higgins spoke loudly from the corner.

"The next time we hear the female prefects have a peephole in their bath, can we make sure we actually know where their bath _is_?" he complained. I heard him lean against his headboard and the two dull thuds as he kicked his sneakers off and onto the floor. "All I got was an eyeful of naked Percy Weasley, and we get enough of that just from living with him."

This time when I chanced a glance at Fred, he was grinning unabashedly. I tried to give him a look of disgust, but only managed to collapse into silent giggles. I'd have to leave the disapproving antics to Angelina in the future.

"I told you the girls' room was on the other side of the castle," said another voice in an irritated manner. "Anyway, who believes something they find on a scrap of paper inside a library book?"

"I already apologized, Hanes," said the bloke who had asked about the lights. I recognized his voice now—it was Oliver's good mate Charlie Lightoller. "Anyway, it was just for a bit of fun. Had to try something to cheer up old Wood, didn't I?"

"We could have just gone down to the pitch," Oliver mumbled for the first time since entering the room. He sat down on his bed, and the hinges above us creaked slightly. I stared at his shoes, which were mere inches from my face, and felt my heart rate increase.

"Right, because what you really need is more quidditch," laughed Higgins.

"What's the trouble anyway, mate?" asked Hanes. "You've been practically silent since breakfast."

Instead of answering, Wood drew up his feet and lay down on the bed. I could almost picture him doing his characteristic shrug, the one he gave me so often when he refused to discuss anything related to his feelings.

"Oh come on, Woody," Charlie said bracingly. "We're not thick, we know something's up. You've barely said two words together all day. You practically blew off Chels when she came to talk to you."

_Chels_? _They were calling her Chels?_ I turned to look horrifyingly at Fred, but he put his finger to his lips and rolled his eyes upward to indicate that whatever was about to be said was important. His quill and parchment pad were at the ready.

"It's true," Higgins put in before Oliver could reply. "She won't want to come to the dance with you now, man."

"Well, what if that's the problem?" Oliver suddenly said. "I mean, what if I'm not even sure I want to go with Chelsey? All of this started so fast, and now everyone is expecting me to ask her…_She's _expecting it. And I just—I don't know."

There was a silence in the room for a few seconds that indicated that Wood's outburst had been just as unanticipated by them as it had by me. Fred was suddenly scribbling away at his pad furiously.

"I don't understand," Hanes said, finally breaking the silence. "Don't you like Chelsey?"

"Yes. Of course I do. But do I have to take her to some silly dance to show her that? And get dressed up in a jacket and bowtie like a proper ponce?"

"I don't know, mate, that's just what you do," Alex replied. "Anyway, you never seemed to have a problem with dances before."

"Yeah, I know…"

"So what is it this time?"

"Oh, I don't know. It's just—well, what if I don't want to go with Chelsey?"

There was another pause, and I pictured the other three exchanging glances the way Alicia and I sometimes do when Angelina is being ridiculous. Then again, men probably didn't do that, I reminded myself.

"Well, who else would you go with?" Lightoller finally asked.

_Oh, God. Please say me. Please, please, please say me. _This time, it was me who reached out unconsciously and grabbed Fred's hand as I waited in the uncomfortable silence. He gave a look I could read as one of disgust, but didn't pull away.

After a few more seconds passed in which I again imagined Oliver to be shrugging, he answered.

"I don't know…there's Katie Bell."

_Katie Bell!_ I had to stuff my fist in my mouth to keep from verbally cheering. Now Fred actually did pull his hand away from mine. He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, but I paid him no attention. _Oliver said my name! He said me!_

"Really?" Higgins asked abruptly. "That quidditch girl again?"

"She's two years younger than you, mate," said Hanes. "And—well…"

_Oh, my god. They're going to slag me off! That bloke Hanes is about to slag me off in front of Oliver._ I turned to Fred in horror and pointed in Hanes' direction and Fred shrugged uncomfortably.

"Sorry," he mouthed silently.

"Well what?" Wood suddenly snapped.

_Whoa. Someone call Madame Pomfrey, because I'm pretty sure I just died of sheer hotness. _

"Slag me off, slag me off!" I hissed excitedly, unable to help vocalizing my feelings. The redhead beside me now stared in wonder.

"Are you kidding me?" he said in the lowest of all possible tones. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

"If Hanes slags me off, Wood's going to stand up for me," I breathed excitedly. "Helloo-oo—dream moment, here!"

"You're_ unbelievable_."

Hanes didn't slag me off, however. Neither did Alex Higgins or Charlie Lightoller. Charlie, in fact, covered it up quite nicely.

"Nothing, mate," he said smoothly. "We just thought you were into Chelsey now, is all. You, er, still fancy the Bell girl, then?"

"No," Oliver said firmly, causing my heart to sink. "Well—I mean…_maybe_. I don't know! The point is…oh, it doesn't matter. She's just under my skin."

Fred began writing again. I tried to strain my eyes in the dim light to see what he was saying, but he elbowed me away.

"Well," Oliver began again. "Aren't you lot going to say anything?"

But his tone was still a little steely, and it didn't seem like his friends were used to standing up to him when he got this way. Actually, I wasn't sure I could think of _anyone_ who stood up to Wood when he was like this—except maybe Professor McGonagall. Finally, Higgins spoke.

"You do what you like, mate," he said in an even voice that still belied his true opinion. "It just seems like Chels is more your type. You two have known each other for years now…And Bell, well…"

"She just seems more suited for someone else, that's all," Hanes put in. "I can see her easier with—oh, I don't know—one of the Weasley twins, maybe."

Fred grinned at this as Oliver slowly said, "Yeah…" in an unconvincing sort of way. The redhead seemed to take this as his cue and instantly, reached over to rest his hand on my bum. I failed to stifle an indignant scoff as I squirmed and kicked him away from me, causing some of the boxes under the bed to shift. Luckily for us, Percy Weasley chose that moment to enter the room and caused a loud ruckus as he dumped his textbooks onto his nearby desk.

"Hi Percy," Wood said quickly, evidently embarrassed at the fact that he'd just been discussing a possible dalliance between his roommate's younger brothers and the girl he "no, maybe" kind of fancied.

"Wood," Percy replied in his traditional stuffy manner as he turned down his bed sheets. I craned my head uncomfortably to the left and saw a flash of freckled skin disappear further into the dark under Percy's bed. George was still well-hidden, then. "What's going on with all of you, then?"

Lightoller apparently didn't have the kind of reservations Oliver did about the conversation, because he made no attempt to hide what the group had just been discussing.

"We were just talking about your twin brothers," Charlie said easily. "What do you reckon, Perce, could one of them fancy that Katie Bell?"

Percy scoffed. "If either of those two turn out to have snogged every girl in the castle, it wouldn't surprise me. So it's possible. Although I think George is actually dating someone now…"

"Alicia," Wood said promptly.

"Right, Alicia Spinnet," Percy replied. "So that's good, I suppose. Of course, George was always _slightly _more honorable than Fred, anyway…"

Now it was my turn to grin as Fred's expression soured. I stuck my tongue out at him, but he just shook his head.

"Don't know why you slag them off, Weasley," Higgins said. "I like your brothers. And every girl in the castle, that's an impressive record."

Percy was either too annoyed to say anything, or was cut off by Charlie, because he never answered.

"Say, didn't she go out with Fred anyway?" Lightoller said suddenly. "I think I remember seeing them together in Hogsmeade. She's the brunette, right?"

Oliver's voice seemed uncomfortable. "Right…but that was two weeks ago, and I haven't really seen them together since. And they haven't behaved any differently at practice…"

"Does any of this matter?" Percy interrupted. "Because it's getting late and I'd like to get some sleep at some point."

"No, none of it matters," Wood said quickly. "Hanes, turn out the light, will you?"

Hanes complied and within seconds, the room was dark and silent. I waited a few minutes as the boys' breathing began to grow deeper and further apart until I nudged my partner in crime beside me.

"Freddie," I whispered in as quiet a voice as I could manage.

"Hmm?"

"Um—it's nothing, just…how exactly were you planning on getting us out of here?"

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"_Fred!"_

"Okay, okay, so I left out one small detail…but it's not so bad. It's cozy down here. We'll just…pull an all-nighter until they leave in the morning."

"There is no way I'm spending the night on the floor with you! Especially with Wood directly above me!"

"Keep your voice down, Bell, or he actually will wake up…okay. Let me think…"

There was no need, however, because at that moment , there was a sudden bang in the room and the air quickly filled with the most rancid smell imaginable. The dorm mates instantly shifted in their beds and loud shouts of indignation emerged from behind the bed curtains.

"What the hell…?"

"Percy, was that you again?"

"What? _No_…"

"Dung bomb!" Lightoller finally said, his bare feet appearing again on the floor. "Ugh…okay, everyone out. Weasley, go find Filch…"

"Why me?"

"Just _go_."

The boys made a bee line for the door and within nanoseconds, they were gone. Covering my nose, I instantly pulled myself out from under Oliver's bed and ran for the door. Fred and George instantly followed and after waiting for the seventh years to disappear into the common room, we walked down the flight of stairs until we reached the twins' dormitory.

"Dung bomb, brilliant!" Fred exclaimed in his normal-volumed voice. "Your puerile humor saves the day again, George!"

"Just shut up, will you?" George snapped back in a very un-George like manner. Fred raised his eyebrows in concern.

"What's the matter, Georgie? We completed our mission, and Kates didn't even mess it up this time."

My shout of indignation went unheard as George brandished what looked like a very racy magazine cover in his brother's face.

"I was kidding about the schoolgirl porn!" George said in a tortured voice. "But then it was…then it was _real_!"

I was unable to help from bursting into laughter. Fred attempted valiantly to look concerned for his brother, and succeeded for several seconds before succumbing to laughter as well.

"I'm sorry, mate," he said, grinning madly. "But—"

"Oh stuff it, you're not sorry. We were supposed to work together, but then you had to go and insist and sharing space with _Katie_—"

"Oi, leave me out of this," I interjected, but George just rolled his eyes and disappeared into his own dorm room.

"You're mad—the pair of you."


End file.
